We proceed, however, to the account of Maria's
wanderings to Rome and back, and we come to the pretty passage which
follows:
"How she had borne it, and how she had got supported, she could
not tell; but God tempers the wind, said Maria, to the shorn lamb.
Shorn indeed! and to the quick, said I; and wast thou in my own
land, where I have a cottage, I would take thee to it, and shelter thee;
thou shouldst eat of my own bread and drink of my own cup; I
would be kind to thy Sylvio; in all thy weaknesses and wanderings
I would seek after thee, and bring thee back. When the sun went
down I would say my prayers; and when I had done thou shouldst
play thy evening-song upon thy pipe; nor would the incense of my
sacrifice be worse accepted for entering heaven along with that of a
broken heart."
But then follows more whimpering:
"Nature melted within me [continues Sterne] as I said this; and
Maria observing, as I took out my handkerchief, that it was steeped
too much already to be of use, would needs go wash it in the stream.
And where will you dry it, Maria? said I. I'll dry it in my bosom,
said she; 'twill do me good.
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